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''My soul is made of glass. The outline is thick and forms a perfect circle. It resembles to a ball of fire. Sometimes steel. Mostly though it's glass. It can break easily but the fire still exists, containing it, keeping it intact. My mask is made of pain. Some may say it resembles to my soul. Others claim there is no pain inside me, just a failure that I'm trying hard to bring upon myself. I don't know which theory applies in my case but I wish none are true. My heart's state is variable…